« PředchozíPokračovat »
K. Hen. Worcester, get thee gone, for I do see Danger and disobedience in thine eye. 0, sir, your presence is too bold and peremptory, And majesty might never yet endure The moody frontier 1 of a servant brow. You have good leave to leave us;. when we need Your use and counsel, we shall send for you.
[Exit Worcester. You were about to speak. [to Northumberland. North.
Yea, my good lord. Those prisoners, in your highness' name demanded, Which Harry Percy here at Holmedon took, Were, as he says, not with such strength denied As is deliver'd to your majesty. Either envy, therefore, or misprision Is guilty of this fault, and not my son.
Hot. My liege, I did deny no prisoners. But, I remember, when the fight was done, When I was dry with rage and extreme toil, Breathless and faint, leaning upon my sword, Came there a certain lord, neat, trimly dress’d, Fresh as a bridegroom ; and his chin, new reap'd, Show'd like a stubble land at harvest-home. He was perfumed like a milliner ; And, 'twixt his finger and his thumb, he held A pouncet-box, & which ever and anon He gave
his nose, and took 't away again ; Who, therewith angry, when it next came there,
2 A small box for perfumes.
Took it in snuff:1-and still he smiled, and talk'd ;
1 Snuff is equivocally used for anger, and a powder taken op the nose. 2 Parrot.
And, I beseech you, let not his report
K. Hen. Why, yet he doth deny his prisoners ;
Hot. Revolted Mortimer!
He never did fall off, my sovereign liege,
? Bravery, stoutness.
Send me your prisoners with the speediest means, Or you
shall hear in such a kind from me As will displease you. My lord Northumberland, We license your departure with your son. Send us your prisoners, or you 'll hear of it.
[Exeunt King Henry, Blunt, and Train. Hot. And if the devil come and roar for them, I will not send them. I will after straight, And tell him so; for I will ease my heart, Although it be with hazard of my head. North. What, drunk with choler? stay, and
pause awhile ; Here comes your uncle.
Speak of Mortimer? Zounds, I will speak of him ; and let my
soul Want mercy, if I do not join with him : Yea, on his part, I'll empty all these veins, And shed my dear blood drop by drop i'the dust, But I will lift the down-trod Mortimer As high i' the air as this unthankful king, As this ingrate and canker'd Bolingbroke. North. Brother, the king hath made your nephew mad.
[to Worcester. Wor. Who struck this heat up after I was gone?
Hot. He will, forsooth, have all my prisoners; And when I urged the ransom once again Of my wife's brother, then his cheek look'd pale ; And on my face he turn’d an eye of death,